It's a Family Business
by GharrahGirl
Summary: Meet Gen McNally, a battle-hardened hunter by profession. She's gone up against many monsters in her life, but could it prepare her for the wild ride ahead? We all know what happens to those tangled up with the legendary Winchester Brothers... Will she fare and hold her own, or will she fall to their curse, as well?


**Welcome, one and all! You've ventured on the path of the family business; saving people and hunting things! We've all followed the lives of two very special brothers for ****_years_**** now, and we've seen people come and go from their lives. Enter Miss Genevieve McNally, hunter by profession and occasional badass! **

**In all seriousness, this is my first published Supernatural fanfic, so I really hope you guys like it! Please leave your comments behind! I love the feedback, and I accept professional criticism. I will, however, warn that malicious and unfairly rude comments will be bypassed. I don't mind opinions, but you can share them without being asses ^.^ !**

**Without further ado, I bring to you Chapter 1!**

**~GharrahGirl**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Supernatural or it's characters. I only own my character, my added scenes, and my own quirkiness :)**

**Wendigo So Wrong...**

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_."

_How could a hunt go so damn bad so fast?_ Gen pulls her mass of red hair up into a sloppy bun, tying a strip of cloth around it to keep it there as she crouches low in the dimly lit mine, ears listening and eyes darting for the monster of a creature that took her.

Her heart races as she waits for signs of the creature. It had just been behind her, but she'd lost it among the turns and corridors of the mine shaft. She keeps her breathing light, silent as she focuses on bottling her panic to focus on the hunt. She hadn't known it was a damn wendigo, or she'd have brought better weapons. As it is, she's left with the twin silver throwing knives she keeps strapped to her rib cage. Her guns and other knives had been removed when she'd been brought here two days ago. _Not that they'd do much good against the damned thing,_ she thinks bitterly

"Fucking hell," she mutters, thoughts racing as she ventures away from the wall she'd been pressed against, starting to tread lightly down the corridors in a desperate search for a way out.

Hearing an inhuman screech behind her, she breaks into a run, heart pumping in rhythm with her pounding feet against the dirt as she races down corridors, turning quickly in an attempt to lose the creature once again. She can hear it behind her, gaining on her. It has the advantage of inhuman speed. She takes a last turn, crying out as a jutting rock sends her tumbling to the ground, skin scraping and breaking open as she tumbles over the rough terrain, coming to a stop a few feet away and gasping to regain her lost breath, her chest burning with the sudden loss of oxygen.

She attempts to crawl further as she hears the creature approaching, inhuman hisses and clicks coming from it as it watches her. Her nails dig into the dirt as she claws at it in her attempts to gain distance from it.

She cries out as it grabs her ankle, tugging her back. She digs her fingers deeper into the ground, desperate to gain some traction, only for her nails to split and break under the pressure, some of them bleeding from the trauma. It continues to drag her kicking and screaming curses back to its lair, back to the same dreaded room she'd escaped from.

"Get off of me, you son of a bitch!" she shouts, flipping onto her back and attempting to kick at it as it grabs at her.

The thing in front of her sends chills down her spine, but she bottles her fear and panic again to fight, adrenaline flushing her system as she fights the gangly, unnaturally pale thing above her, it's long, clawed hands ripping at the flesh of her arms as she fights it off. Unfortunately, it manages to get a grip on her hair, using it to slam her head into the ground until the painful and blurry world fade into darkness.

Screams snap her into consciousness with a gasp. Her eyes blink rapidly to try to clear her vision as the screaming stops, giving way to the squelching of ripping flesh and the snap of breaking bones. Her stomach heaves at the sound, her face drawing up into a grimace as the acrid coppery smell of blood assaults her nostrils. She slowly looks up from the ground, her head throbbing as she sees the creature tearing at the remains of some poor bastard as it stuffs flesh into its mouth, sharpened teeth gnawing at meat.

"Oh, god," she mutters, leaning forward as her empty stomach lurches, sending bile burning up her esophagus and onto the ground in front of her.

The creature looks up at her, pale eyes shining in the low light, reflecting it back at her like an animal. Bloody saliva drips down it's pale, leathery skin as it snarls at her, getting up from the fresh kill at its feet to stalk toward her, fingers twitching. It's low snarling reaches her ears as it gets closer, standing bare in front of her, skin stretched over an impossibly thin frame like old leather over a corpse. She gags at the stench of its kill on its breath as circles her, sniffing deeply.

She cries out as a clawed hand lashes out, slashing into her side. Her arms tense as she attempts to reach to cover the bleeding wound, prevented by the chain hanging from the ceiling and wrapped tightly around her wrists. She jerks, trying to escape the creature as it licks the blood from its claws, testing the taste.

Without another glance at her, it takes its kill and drags it off to finish its meal, leaving her bleeding as she stands chained to the ceiling, arms numb from their locked position. She hears whimpering to her left and snaps her gaze that way, her silver eyes meeting a pair of dark blue eyes, a man.

He's young, around her age in his twenties. He's bloodied and dirty, wearing a soiled red shirt with long sleeves under it. His dark hair is messy and caked in dirt, as well.

"Hey," she calls, her voice hoarse and wavering as she attempts to ignore the burning pain in her side as it continues to leak blood, "You okay, over there?"

"He was my friend," he whimpers, voice thick, "What the hell _is_ that thing?"

"It's called a wendigo," she tells him, sighing as she looks around the dark cavern, the only light filtering through the beams above, "It used to be a man, believe it or not."

"That thing," he asks, disbelief coloring his features, "_How?_"

"He was once a man, until he somehow found himself in a situation that meant he had to eat human flesh to survive. Eating humans can give you unnatural powers," she tells him lowly as he watches her intently, engrossed by her story, "But, over time, doing so causes you to lose your humanity, your mind, until you become that thing. A non-human, bloodthirsty beast with your only priority becoming the need to feast. The hunger becomes insatiable."

"W-Why hasn't it killed us?"

"It needs us alive," she tells him darkly, "Needs the meat to be fresh."

"How... How do you know all of this," he asks quietly, watching her.

"It's my job," she tells him, sighing as she looks at him, "I'm a Hunter. I hunt supernatural bad guys and kill them. Things like that. Ghosts, werewolves, demons... You name it."

"You're not very good," he jokes lightly, grimacing as he shifts in discomfort.

"I thought it was a werewolf," she admits, glaring at the ground, "I've never heard of a wendigo anywhere near here, didn't even consider it a possibility until the damn thing found me days ago and took me."

"How'd you survive this long," he asks, frowning, "It took us last night, and it's already killed two of my friends."

"I escaped when it left to search for more food. There was another guy here when I was brought in the first time. He ended up like your friend there. I had tools on me, was able to pick my locks and get away. I spent half a day running from the damned thing, but couldn't find my way out of this stupid mine. It found me yesterday, brought me back."

"We're going to die in here," he states lowly, voice thick, "Aren't we?"

"If it's any consolation, I'm sure that I'm next," she states to comfort him, "And, if not, these claw marks will kill me soon enough. I'm bleeding pretty bad."

"Oh, God," he mutters, sniffling, "My... My siblings... They won't know what happened to me."

"Unfortunately, that's probably a blessing," she reminds, shaking her head slightly, "They won't have to know you got eaten alive. My sister... She knows that I was hunting out here. If I don't check in like I'm supposed to tomorrow, she'll know that I've been torn apart."

She groans in pain as she shifts, looking down to the wound in her side, watching the blood leak from it. Her shirt is stained darkly, shining and sticky as it melds to her skin. The blood drips onto the ground at her feet, starting to create a small puddle. She won't last much longer bleeding like this...

"Hey," the guys state, looking at her grimly, "What's your name?"

"Genevieve," she tells him with a low chuckle, "Genevieve McNally. And you?"

"Tommy Collins."

She looks up weakly as she hears a loud crash as lumber rains from above, bringing with it groans of pain and large thuds as bodies hit the ground. Her vision swims slightly, but she manages to focus it enough to see the two men who're sitting nearby, staring at the pile of bones from the creatures last kills. The men look over, the taller of the two rushing toward a man strung up nearby. She doesn't remember him or the woman the other one runs to. They must've been brought in while she was out.

She loses the fight against her neck, her head flopping forward as her strength drains, eyes darting over the slowly growing puddle of blood at her feet. Her vision swims once more, darkness dancing at the edges as her hearing muffles.

"Genevieve, hey, open your eyes."

Confused, and with much more effort than it should take, she slowly manages to force her eyes open, staring down at Tommy as he stands in front of her, looking relieved as she looks at him.

"Oh, thank god," he mutters, "I was worried you'd died."

"It'll take more than that to kill me," she mutters back thickly, earning an amused smile from the man.

"Cut her down," he asks of someone beyond her line of sight, and she suddenly finds herself pitching forward into Tommy's arms, collapsing as her numb arms drop to her sides.

She yells in pain as her wound burns hotly, Tommy clutching onto her in panic as a different man crouches in front of her. This one is tall, dark hair long and hanging in his face. He looks over her side grimly, hazel eyes darting over her ripped flesh.

"Dean, this one's hurt bad," he calls, deep voice echoing.

Another man, shorter, walks up, looking down at her with a frown. She manages a weak glare at his grimace, hating the pitying gazes being sent her way almost as much as the worried look Tommy's giving her.

"I'm fine," she hisses, attempting to sit up, ignoring the protests of Tommy and the man crouching beside her, "We need to get out of here before the damn wendigo gets back, or we're _all_ dead," she insists, stumbling slightly as she gets up and swatting away the hand that the tall man sets on her arm, determined to stand on her own.

The two men look at her in surprise, and Tommy helps her to remain standing, her prickling arm clutching her side as she leans heavily on the man she'd been strung up with for the last day and night.

"Who is this, Tommy," the woman, a shorter brunette that shares a similar jawline and eye color to Tommy, asks, watching the swaying hunter.

"This is Genevieve," he states, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her, "Gen, this is my sister and brother. Guys, she knows what this thing is, called herself a hunter."

"_You're_ a hunter," the shorter of the men exclaims with a scoff.

She glares weakly at him, removing her free arm from her side, raising her bloodied middle finger at him silently. The taller of the two huffs a laugh, eyebrows raising as the shorter one glares at her indignantly.

"I'm Sam," the taller one introduces, grinning slightly, "And this is my brother, Dean. We're hunters, too. We're gonna get everyone out of here, okay?"

"We need to get moving," she tells them, voice wavering as she fights to stay conscious, "Before it gets back. These mines are a maze. We don't want to be walking it when that thing finds out we're gone."

They nod, and we slowly start out. Tommy keeps a firm grip around Gen's waist, his other hand gripping her own to keep her arm slung over his shoulders as he supports her weight as she stumbles along, using every bit of adrenaline and willpower she has to stay conscious to continue trekking on.

"Guys, I don't know how much further Gen can go," Tommy voices, pausing the group's progress.

"I'm _fine_," she insists, her body betraying her as her knees buckle, Tommy keeping her from dropping.

"You're _not_," he hisses at her, frowning in concern.

Further conversation is broken up by low growling in the distance. Sam and Dean raise their guns, pointing toward the end of the passage.

"Looks like someone's home for dinner," Dean snarks.

"We'll never outrun it," Hailey states.

"You thinking what I'm thinking," Dean asks, eyes snapping to his brother.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Alright, listen to me," Dean states, looking back at them, "Stay with Sam. He's gonna get you out of here."

"What are you going to do," Hailey asks in concern.

His only response is a small smirk and a wink before he walks down a different passage, shouting and taunting the Wendigo to lead it away from us. Sam ushers them down a passage as Dean's muffled shouts echo around them. They quicken their pace, Hailey helping Tommy to carry Gen between them as she fumbles her feet. Growling can be heard close by as they turn a corner into a larger passage, the way guided by minecart tracks in the ground. Sam glances at it before looking back into the mine depths for a long moment. Then, he turns back to them.

"Get them out of here," he tells Hailey.

"Sam, no."

"Go," he insists, "Go! Go."

The four of them quickly head in the opposite direction, leaving Sam to go after the thing. They hear a shriek and a shot, and Hailey pauses, turning back.

"Sam," she calls out in worry, the man appearing quickly from the distance and hurrying up to them, ushering them urgently.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry!" he shouts as he pushes them to move again, "Go!"

The snarling shrieks and deep growls of the creature can be heard behind them as they trek along, turning down different passages until they come to a dead end. Sam ushers the four of them behind him, standing protectively between them and the monster as it slowly approaches, snarling and crouching. It lets out a loud, inhuman roar as it tilts its head skyward, arms outstretched.

"Hey!"

The creature turns at the shout, shrieking in agony as a flare suddenly implants into its torso, lighting up its body as it begins to burn. Its leathery skin bursts into flames, and it continues to howl and shriek in pain until it collapses to the ground, a huddled burning mass.

"Not bad, huh," Dean calls, smirking.

They all stand in silent relief until Gen suddenly drops, crumpling to the ground. Sam and Tommy hurry to her side and crouch down, turning her over to see her eyes closed and face ashen.

"Oh, shit," Tommy mutters, patting her cheek, "_Shit_, Gen, you okay? Hey, Gen?"

"She's passed out," Sam states lowly, eyeing the blood covering her entire right side, "She's lost too much blood. We gotta get her out of here, _now_."

Sam picks up the limp woman, her head falling back limply as she leaves the ground. The group rushes through the mine, Dean leading the way with Sam behind him carrying the bloodied girl. It's another few hours of hiking before they make their way to the ranger station. Night had already fallen by the time the ambulances arrived, one immediately taking Genevieve as another straps Tommy in.

Sam walks into the hospital room, looking at Tommy as he sits beside Gen's bed, watching her. He, too, looks over the woman. Her face is pale, but her color has started returning. In the proper lighting, and without the layer of dirt and blood that had covered her, he can see the dusting of freckles on her skin. Her hair falls in bright orange waves around her, no longer caked in dirt and blood.

"She wake up, yet," he asks, walking in and sitting in the other chair in the room.

"No," Tommy answers, sighing, "It's been twelve hours."

"She was injured pretty bad," Sam reasons, "She's tough, though. She survived a long time."

"Yeah," Tommy agrees quietly, "She, uh, she kept me calm, ya know? When we were trapped there. Told me all about the creature and how she was next in line for a meal. She was so brave, even as she was bleeding out," his mouth thins at the memory, eyes haunted before he blinks them away to look back at the still girl, "I'd have gone crazy if she hadn't been there. I mean, seeing what I did... What that thing did to my friends..."

"You sweet-talking me, Tommy-Boy," a soft voice teases.

Both men snap their gazes to the woman in the bed, who's watching them with tired, amused eyes, a soft smirk on her face. Tommy's face relaxes in relief, and Sam gets up to walk closer, looking over the woman.

"How you holding up," Sam asks.

"Bout as well as you'd expect," she comments dryly, "My side hurts like a fucking bitch, but I'm alive, so... Can't complain too much."

"I'm going to go call Hailey," Tommy states with a smile, "She wanted to know when you woke up."

He leaves quickly to call his sister, and Sam takes the previously occupied seat, eyeing the woman silently. She looks at him, observing him before looking around the hospital room with distaste.

"What were you doing at Black Water Ridge," Sam asks, his voice quiet, intense.

"I was hunting what I thought to be a werewolf," she explains quietly, grimacing, "I didn't realize it was a wendigo until it grabbed me."

"That's all," he asks, sitting forward as his eyes bore into hers, "Just... happened to be hunting the very same thing our father sent us after?"

"Yes," she answers slowly, frowning at him, "Who is your father?"

"John Winchester," Sam answers, "Ever heard of him?"

"Heard of him, yeah," she admits hoarsely, "Supposed to be a really great hunter. Never met him, though."

Sam sighs, shoulders sagging as he sits back, looking dejected. Genevieve looks him over in silence, taking note of his expression. He looks toward his hands, his shoulders tense.

"Did something happen to him," she asks carefully, fully aware of how explosive and defensive most hunters can be.

"We're not sure," he admits quietly, looking back up at her with worry pinching his brows, "He gave us coordinates to come here, but he's not here. He was never here, and then you showed up..."

"I only arrived two days before you found me. I'd been on the case half a day in those woods before it found me. If he knew something was in those woods killing people, I doubt he knew I was heading there. I don't talk with much of the hunting community, mostly keep to myself."

"Tommy said you were really calm in there," Sam comments, looking over her bruised face, "He said you kept him calm."

"Yeah, I knew at least _I_ was dying," she tells him with a huff of quiet laughter, stopping with a grimace as a hand moves to her side, "Panicking doesn't help anyone. It wouldn't change the situation either of us were in."

"Pretty level-headed thinking."

"Yeah, well, when you work this job as long as I have, you learn to accept that you're going to die ugly someday. It's just a matter of time," she reminds him, looking around the room once more in distaste, "I can't fucking stand hospitals. Any chance you could get me some discharge papers?"

"You sure that's a good idea," Sam asks, frowning in concern at her, "Those wounds were pretty deep."

"And now they're stitched. My blood's been replenished thanks to the good Samaritans of Lost Creek, Colorado," she replies sarcastically, "I'll have to take a break from hunting for a bit, but I'm not staying here. Could you get me the release papers," she asks again, eyebrows raised.

He nods, standing and leaving silently, and she slowly sits up, grimacing at the pull on the stitches as she does so. She rolls her shoulders carefully, sighing in relief as they pop audibly. She turns to dangle her legs over the edge of the bed, looking to the IV in her arm briefly before ripping it out, hissing in pain before bending her arm before slowly standing to walk to the cabinet, digging through it until she finds some gauze and tape to cover the bleeding spot in her inner elbow.

"Miss Michaels!" a nurse gasps as she spots Gen standing in her hospital gown, Tommy and Sam at her heels, "You shouldn't be out of bed!"

"I'm fine," she replies roughly, glaring minutely at the woman fretting over her, "Where are my papers?"

"Miss Michaels, the doctor is on his way. He highly protests you leaving at this-"

"Don't care," she cuts in, waving the concerned woman away to slowly walk back to her bed and sit down on it with a grimace, "I can leave against your advice. Papers. Now."

She sighs, lips pursed before she leaves quickly. Gen smirks after her before eyeing up the two men in the doorway. She beckons them in with a tilt of her head, and they shuffle in. Sam gives her an amused smirk, but Tommy is looking at her in worry.

"Are you sure you should leave, Gen," Tommy asks, frowning, "You were hurt so badly."

"Yeah, but it's an occupational hazard," she explains to him with a small shrug, "I'm not staying here now that I can get up and move."

"But, the doctor-"

"Good afternoon, Miss Michaels," an older man in with peppering dark hair states, a clipboard in his hands as he looks down at it while he steps into the room. Judging by the long white coat, she assumes this is the doctor, "I'm Dr. Richards. I hear you're wanting to leave?"

"Yeah, and your nurse is taking her sweet time getting my release papers."

"Yes, I asked her to hold off until I'd gotten a chance to speak with you. How are you feeling?"

"Sore, pained, and annoyed. I'd like to leave."

"I'm afraid I can't advise you to leave for at least another two days. We'd like to monitor you for lasting signs of infection with your wounds, and with your level of blood loss-"

"Don't care," she snaps, eye twitching as she puts great effort into keeping her eyes from rolling, "I'm not interested. I want to leave. Bring me my discharge papers."

"I must warn that you can still suffer some side effects of what you went through."

"Okay, then I'll deal with them. Discharge papers."

He sighs and hands the clipboard over alongside a pen. Gen looks down at the papers, seeing which alias they'd found on her body this time. Jennifer Michaels. She snorts softly at that one and signs the name with an exaggerated flourish before handing the clipboard back with a smirk.

"When can I leave?"

"If you'll only allow us to gather some discharge instructions," the doctor states stiffly, clearly unhappy with her choice, "It shouldn't take more than ten minutes, then you are free to go."

"Good, thanks Doc."

The doctor leaves stiffly, and Sam chuckles as he moves to stand next to her, a bag in his hand. He offers it to her, and she takes it curiously, looking inside to see a set of clothes. She looks back to him.

"What's this," she asks with a frown.

"A set of clothes; bought them from the thrift store nearby. Yours were thrown out as biohazards since they were covered in blood. We didn't know where you were staying, so..."

"Thanks, Sam," she states genuinely, standing and walking to her bathroom to change.

She shuts the door and manages to shed the hospital gown, letting it drop into a pile at her feet. She looks up into the mirror, twisting slightly with a grimace to look at her wounds. The claws left four large, ragged cuts into her skin. They're now stitched up, but she's more than sure they'll leave some nasty scars behind. They're long, starting at the base of her rib cage and flowing down diagonally to end at the side of her abdomen, just above her hip. The surrounding skin is still red, and they're surrounded by a large bruise that takes up the majority of her side. Other than a multitude of other bruises here and there, including a nasty one on her temple, she doesn't see any other serious injuries.

She slowly slides into the jeans, finding it difficult as she can't bend her torso all that much right now without risking pulling the stitches out. She manages it, though. She grabs the t-shirt, a plain dark purple shirt a few sizes too big for her, and slowly slides it on, just barely managing to lift her arms up enough to get it over her head. She lets it fall down around her, forgoing the bra within the bag completely. She'll have to go without until those scratches heal up, anyhow. She smirks slightly, though, at the thought of Sam or Dean having picked it up at a store. I hope they were embarrassed to do so, she thinks wryly.

She heads out, the bag in her hand as she tosses it at Sam. He fumbles to catch it slightly, but his hunter instincts help keep him from dropping it altogether. Tommy walks in with a bag and a stack of papers. He holds them up with a slight smile.

"Painkillers and antibiotics to go," he states, holding up the bag, "And discharge instructions."

"Nice," she states, taking both and shoving them at Sam, who puts them in the bag in his hands, "Let's blow this place. Hospitals suck."

The three walk out, Gen making sure to give an exaggerated wave to her doctor and nurse on her way out, grinning widely at their upset expressions. Sam rolls his eyes slightly, but the corner of his mouth twitches with the threat of a smile. When they get outside, she sees Dean off to the side leaning against a beauty of a car as well as Hailey and Tommy's brother nearby in their own car.

"You could come with me," Tommy offers her, shifting nervously, "You could stay with us until you're healed."

She smiles softly at the offer, truly touched by it, but she shakes her head negatively, watching his face fall slightly.

"I'm gonna have Sam and Dean drop me off at my hotel and head out of town, back to my job. I'll probably stick to research until I heal up a bit, though. Thanks for everything, Tommy," she tells him, leaning up to kiss his cheek before following Sam over to his brother, who's watching her with curious eyes.

"Touching," Dean comments with a smirk, "Where's my kiss?"

"You wish," she scoffs lightly, grinning at the teasing glint to Dean's eyes, "Dean, right?"

"You remembered," he comments, smirking, "What's the damage?"

"Gonna have the scars to show later," she informs the two with a soft shrug, "Got a new cool story to tell over a beer, too, so bonus. Any chance I can hop into this beauty and hitch a ride to my hotel?"

"Hey, anything for a woman who can appreciate a fine car," Dean states, moving to get into the driver seat.

Sam helps her lower into the backseat with a hand on her arm before he gets into the passenger seat, and they drive off. She sends one last wave at Tommy and his family as they pass before she settles into the seat with a soft grunt of pain.

"He's pretty attached to you," Sam comments, turning in his seat to look at her, "He barely left your room after he was discharged."

"He'll get over it," she tells them with a shrug, "It's just because we were trapped together in there ready to die."

"Probably," Dean replies, shifting in his seat, "So, you're a hunter, huh?"

"Yeah," she states sarcastically, "You, too, huh?"

"Alright, smartass," he snaps back, rolling his eyes, "How long you been hunting?"

"All my life," she answers, "I'm a third-generation hunter. It's in the family."

"Third-generation," Sam asks in surprise, looking back at her again, "Did you ever... want out?"

"Not really," she says, shrugging lightly, "It's all I know, and I know it saves people. My sister did, though. She's a nurse, when she's not hunting, anyway. She balances the best she can since she had kids."

"Where are we headed," Dean asks as they turn out of the hospital.

"Motel 6, about six miles from here, to the right."

He nods, heading that way, and they fall silent as he drives. She watches the scenery go by as the brothers converse quietly in front of her. She thinks to her sister, just knowing that she's in for a serious lecture when she shows up there to crash until she heals. She looks out as they pull into the motel parking lot, pointing out her rover for Dean to pull up next to. Gen gets out carefully, shutting the door and looking down at Sam as he rolls the window down.

"You two are fair fighters," she comments, digging a pen out of her pocket and grabbing Sam's arm, scribbling her number down on his wrist, "My number. I change phones about every eight months. This one should be good for another six. Call me if you two ever need another set of hands, okay?"

"Yeah, we will," Sam promises as Dean smirks at him, only to be ignored by his brother, "Thanks, Gen."

"Hey, I should be thanking you two. After all, you carried my unconscious ass outta that pit of death. Hope to see you around, boys."

"Yeah, you too," Dean comments, smirking, "Wouldn't be too bad having someone else around, better views and all that."

She flips him off, giving him an exaggerated sweet smile before looking back to Sam with a genuine one. She steps back, so they can leave, watching them drive into the distance before she heads into her room and packs up, putting everything back into her rover before she checks out and starts toward South Dakota, mentally prepping for her arrival at her sister's home.

Her phone beeps, and she picks it up with a frown, looking down at it. She has a message. She opens it, eyes scrolling over the text before she grins and saves the number under Sasquatch.

_Call us if you need our help. -Sam _

This looks to be the beginning of a good partnership with those boys. She pockets her phone and blasts some classic rock through her speakers as she drives down the highway, window cracked to let the fresh countryside air rush in.

**Well, that's it for chapter one! She's officially met the brothers, started down her path! Only time will tell how she's gonna fair in the wild adventures in sotre ahead of her. She certainly didn't start off very well ^.-**

**Happy reading and many blessings, **

**~GharrahGirl**


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